Concealed in the dense canopy, Aziz and Delilah remained hidden from view. Below them, the King’s Guard had transformed their camp into a fortress, fortified by palisades and surrounded by a cleared perimeter to spot any intruders. At the camp’s centre, a larger fire crackled, the rich aroma of roasting meat wafting through the air—a signal of their communal feast. Pairs of guards patrolled the top of the palisades, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any hint of danger. The camp was tense, the guards on edge. Relations with the Queen’s Hand had deteriorated, and Roof’s growing paranoia was palpable.

If Aziz attempted to move now, he’d be spotted instantly. The area was too well-lit, the fires casting flickering light that would disrupt his shadow steps. Any misstep, and the alarm would be raised, dooming their mission before it even began.

"Master, they are watching," Mal hissed, sensing the presence of unseen eyes lurking in the surrounding foliage.

This was expected. The supervisors overseeing the children’s trials had been mostly indifferent to Aziz until now, but it seemed his recent actions had piqued their interest. Two of the three supervisors were now observing his every move, their scrutiny a reminder of the stakes.

"Mister Aziz, look," Delilah whispered, her voice trembling as she pointed toward the centre of the camp. There, suspended in a cage hung from a wooden post, was Marcus. His small, frail form was curled up inside, clearly worse for wear. Tears welled up in Delilah’s eyes, but they ceased instantly under Aziz’s sharp, silent command. Now was not the time for emotions to interfere.

"I have a plan," Aziz said, his voice a calm contrast to the tension around them.

"You do?" both Mal and Delilah echoed in surprise. The situation seemed impossible, a mission doomed to fail.

"Mal, come out," Aziz instructed.

In response, Mal slithered down Aziz’s arm, his eyes gleaming like dark amethysts as he regarded Delilah, who recoiled in fear. The black-death snake bared its fangs, causing her to stumble backward, nearly losing her balance on the branch. Quick as a flash, Aziz caught her collar, steadying her before she could fall.

Sweat beaded on Delilah’s forehead as she stared, wide-eyed, at Mal’s menacing form. The snake’s obsidian scales shimmered in the dim light, and its unblinking eyes bore into her, radiating an ancient malevolence.

"Mal, stop teasing her," Aziz ordered.

Obediently, Mal retracted his fangs, coiling around Aziz’s arm before raising his head to their eye level.

"He won’t harm you," Aziz assured, noticing the lingering fear in Delilah’s eyes.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"You… you talk to snakes?" she asked, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief, unable to look away from Mal.

"Delilah."

His tone left no room for argument, and she finally tore her gaze from the snake to meet his.

"Your friend is in danger. You need to decide what’s more important: cowering in fear or saving Marcus."

Delilah hesitated for only a moment before determination settled in her features. The fear was still there, but she pushed it aside, nodding resolutely as she turned her attention back to the camp.

"What's the plan?"

Aziz couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at his lips. This would indeed be interesting.

"We’re going hunting. We need to find some food—a wild pig would be ideal," Aziz explained, his mind already mapping out the next steps of his plan.

Delilah looked confused, but before she could question him, her stomach growled loudly, drawing amused glances from both Aziz and Mal. Embarrassed, she tried to hide behind her hair. "Sorry… I haven’t eaten in a day."

Aziz pulled out a handful of dried snake meat from his pouch and handed it to her. Delilah hesitated for a second, then took the food, realizing that beggars couldn’t be choosers in a place like the Peklo Forest.

"Aren’t you going to ask what it is?" Aziz inquired, curious about her lack of hesitation.

"I trust you," she replied, her cheeks puffed as she chewed, reminding him of a small squirrel storing food in the corners of its mouth.

Unsure how to respond to her trust, Aziz shifted his focus back to the camp. Dried snake meat was still poisonous, though the effects were diminished, requiring a buildup of toxicity over time. Aziz had often wondered if he would ever have the chance to experiment on others to see if they could develop any benefits from black-death meat. Fresh black-death meat would kill instantly, but if it were dried, perhaps it could confer lesser advantages.

Yet, as he handed over the meat, he felt a strange twinge in his heart. He couldn’t quite understand why. Was it guilt? A part of him was relieved he still felt guilt—it meant that not all of him was lost.

"The animals are becoming scarce. Most have already been hunted. How will we find a wild pig? Are you that good of a hunter, Mister Aziz?"

The purple flames in Aziz’s eyes flared to life as he considered the question. The anticipation of what was to come sent a thrill through him. "I’m decent, but decent won’t cut it in the time we have."

He glanced down at Mal, who looked up at him, their thoughts aligning.

"Fortunately, we have one of the greatest hunters in the world right here on my arm."

***

Calling Mal an exceptional predator was an understatement. His efficiency was terrifying. Within hours, Mal had tracked down one of the last wild pigs in the forest, delivering a precise bite to its leg. The beast limped only a few steps before collapsing, dead from the venom coursing through its veins. Aziz had left Delilah perched high in the tree canopy with his food pouch, keeping watch over the camp. Her village background had made her adept at mimicking the sounds of forest animals, a useful skill that would alert him if anything changed. If danger approached, she would mimic the caw of a crow three times.

"Master, it’s dead," Mal announced, his voice slithering through the air as he returned to Aziz, who landed softly on the forest floor.

Aziz approached the pig’s corpse, the scent of fresh death lingering in the air. Mal wound his way up Aziz’s leg and into his hair, content after the successful hunt. Kneeling beside the pig, Aziz made a small incision in its neck with a sharp fingernail. Blood began to trickle out, pooling on the ground as he deepened the wound, leaving a small but deliberate hole. Satisfied, he bit the tip of his own finger, allowing a few drops of his blood to mix with the pig’s.

The first step was complete.